


A Drabble a Day Keeps the Demons Away

by Geekthefreakout



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekthefreakout/pseuds/Geekthefreakout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of SPN drabbles. They will probably be mostly Destiel, with some gen or other things thrown in. Hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of this first drabble was originally posted to my tumblr- also geekthefreakout.

         Cas and Dean share their first kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Castiel likes it so much that he starts zapping them into different time zones so that they can share more midnight kisses, until Dean explains with a laugh that kissing is not an activity that they must constrain to midnights. It’s the best news Cas has heard all year.

         A few minutes later, when they come up for breath on the slopes of Mauna Loa (they were in Hawaii by the time Dean had gotten Cas to stop zapping them everywhere- he wasn't gonna poop for a month, dammit) Dean leans his head on Cas' shoulder and tells him something else about New Year's. 

         "You know, Cas... they say that whatever you're doing the first few minutes of the New Year... that's what you'll be doing all year long."

          Castiel's grin is brighter than the fireworks. And- because who was he to defy tradition?- he leaned in and kissed Dean again.

 


	2. The Pie and the Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere down the line, Cas tells Dean that he tried to get him pie. Dean is alarmed that virgins were threatened. Gen or pre-slash. Enjoy!

“I tried to get you pie.”

Dean glanced up from the book he was reading and saw Castiel standing in the doorway of his room.

“What's that, now?”

“I tried to get you pie. And beer. Before- before Metatron.” Cas stepped into the room, scratching the back of his neck. “When you were angry with me. I- I wanted to make it up to you, Dean.”

“So you decided to get me pie and beer?” Dean clarified, sitting up more in bed.

“Yes. I tried threatening a virgin for your pie, but there was none at the store. Then Metatron found me.” Castiel shrugged and looked at his feet. Dean blinked at him.

“So let me get this straight- I was pissed at you for lyin' to me, and you decided the best way to make it up to me was to get me pie and- and threaten a virgin?” Castiel frowned at him.

“I would not have harmed him, Dean.” He paused, looking around the room. “I was going to get you some of those as well.” He pointed to the pile of Busty Asian Beauties magazines under Dean's bed. Dean's eyes widened.

“Cas, dudes don't buy other dudes porn. That's- that's not how that works.” Castiel squinted at him.

“But you like them. I saw on the television- you are meant to get your loved ones the things they enjoy to earn forgiveness. I did not wish you to be angry with me any longer.” He frowned again. “It might have worked if Metatron had not come for me. If I hadn't been so foolish. And if there had been pie.” Castiel looked mournfully at Dean, then back at the floor, and the hunter thought he looked like a little boy asking for assurance that he was loved after breaking a vase in the living room.

“Cas, buddy...” Dean rubbed his neck and looked up at his friend. His voice softened.

“Hey.”

Castiel looked up at Dean.

“You maybe want to go get me that pie now? We, uh… we can share it. And, y'know, talk.”

Castiel looked hopeful for a moment, then deflated.

“What if there is no pie again?”

“Then you come home- I'll make us burgers. No threatening any virgins, okay?” Castiel smiled in a way that he rarely did, his nose crinkling with the size of it.

“Okay.”

And then he went.

 


	3. I Painted the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was my understanding that the purpose of a birthday gift was to demonstrate the depth of my regard for you."  
> Takes place circa season 8, with Castiel at full power (and then some, probably).

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean, who had been flipping half-heartedly through yet another ancient book from the Men of Letters library, leapt nearly a foot in the air. Cas had been making himself scarce lately, scarce enough that Dean was no longer used to his sudden appearences.

“Dammit, Cas, how many times to I have to tell you...” He grumbled as he turned around to face his friend. He found Castiel standing behind him, staring with his usual intensity.

“It is your birthday, Dean.” He announced as though he was delivering very important information.

“Is it?” Dean had lost track of the days while he and Sam hunted down information about Abaddon. In truth, he couldn't remember the last time he'd celebrated his birthday. Year after year of potentially- world ending disaster had seen to that. “Well, happy birthday to me, then.”

Cas cracked a rare smile and said, “Yes. Happy birthday. You should get your shoes on.”

“Ummm, why?” Dean quirked an eyebrow as Cas actually went to the closet to retrieve Dean's shoes for him. “You gonna take me to the bar with the money _I_ gave you?”

“No, Dean.” Cas suddenly seemed anxious. “I want to give you your birthday present. I've been working on it for some time now.”

“And this requires us going outside.” Dean stated, somewhat apprehensive at what Cas could possibly have to give him that apparently couldn't fit in the bunker.

“Yes. It is not something that I could bring indoors.” Cas said apologetically. “At least, not to the same effect. Will you come?” And dammit if Cas isn't using his big blue eyes to his fullest advantage- Dean could no more say no to that look than he could deny Sam's patented puppy face.

“Yeah… yeah, okay. Where are we going?” Dean asked, taking his shoes and putting them on. Cas shifted anxiously at the question- not, Dean thought, the most encouraging response.

“That's part of the surprise… though I will need to fly you there.”

Dean frowned- he hated traveling by Angel Air. Though Cas had gotten much better at not wreaking havoc on his digestive tract, he disliked the feeling of being disappearing from one place and appearing in another so suddenly. Interdimensional travel was a bitch.

“I will be as gentle as I can, Dean.” Castiel insisted, seeing the hesitation on Dean's face. He seemed distressed that Dean might not come with him. Dean sighed and nodded.

“Alright, alright. Let's go already.”

Cas beamed and waited for Dean to shrug on his jacket before sweeping them both away. When Dean felt himself rematerialize, he was immediately aware of a biting cold. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked around. They were surrounded by a thick layer of snow, and nothing else. He could see no trees or houses in any direction.

“Cas, where…?” He began, but Cas did not let him finish.

“The arctic circle. This is the best place to see it.” Cas, usually so calm and still was nearly vibrating with nervous energy. Dean had never seen him like this- nearly bouncing in place, seeming at once eager and afraid.

“See what, man? It's freezing.” Cas smiled at him.

“Look up, Dean.”

“Look…?” But Cas had already lifted his eyes to the night sky. Dean followed his gaze and was barely able to contain a gasp.

The sky was beautiful, not like anything Dean had seen before. The stars were bright and twinkling, woven into a brilliant stream of light that glowed gently and in many colors. There was green and indigo and blue, all swirling together, the colors seeming to chase each other around the stars.

“Cas, is this…” Dean began, unable to turn his eyes from the spectacle above him.

“It's not the aurora borealis, Dean… it's you.” Cas said gently. That was enough to bring Dean's gaze from the stars to Cas' eyes.

“Me? What do you mean, me?” Castiel looked bashful now looked away.

“It was my understanding that the purpose of a birthday gift was to demonstrate the depth of my regard for you.” He said. “I could not find anything adequate on Earth that I could give you. There was nothing big or good enough.” He returned his gaze to the sky. “This was the closest I could get. It is… an approximation of what I see when I look at you.”

Dean's mouth fell open as he stared at Cas. He didn't have words, could barely wrap his mind around what he was being told. After a long moment of staring at Cas, Dean found his voice again.

“That's… me? You… Cas, did you move the stars for me?” Cas finally returned his attention to Dean.

“Yes. I moved the stars and painted the sky.” He said and Dean was suddenly struck by how inhumanly powerful Castiel was to have the power to move the heavens. This was quickly followed by the realization that he'd moved the heavens for _Dean._ Then Cas lifted his arm to scratch at the back of his neck nervously (a habit he'd likely picked up from one of the Winchester brothers), and he seemed so damn human. “Do you like it? In truth, it's not my best work.” Cas excused nervously.

“ _That's_ not your best work?” Dean asked incredulously, pointing to the sky where the lights (the lights that Cas had _created_ for Dean, holy crap) were still swirling in the sky. Cas shook his head with a small smile. “What the heck have you done that's better than _that_?”

Cas smiled and stepped closer, placing a surprisingly warm hand on Dean's half frozen cheek.

“You are. I rebuilt you, Dean. I remade your body and healed your soul, and you are the most amazing thing that I have ever done.” The warmth from Cas' hand spread from Dean's face to the rest of his body, and somewhere in the back of his mind Dean felt Cas' grace wrapping around him to shield him from the cold. Once again, Dean found himself speechless.

“I… I'm not...”

“You are, Dean. You never let yourself see it. That's why I made this for you. I want you to see some measure of what I see inside you.” Cas smiled tenderly at Dean and gently tilted his head up to the sky once more. “Look- you are not without darkness. I know this. But the darkness in you makes the light shine even more brightly- like the stars in the night. This is you, Dean. This is what you are to me.”

Dean blinked hard, surprised to feel his eyes burning. He studied the sky once more, emotion swelling in his chest. He felt Cas' fingers slipping from his cheek and caught them, pressing them back to his face as he turned back to Cas again.

“That's really what you see in me, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean. Happy birthday.” Dean nodded and paused.

“Never tell Sam what I'm about to do.” he instructed, and before Cas could ask what he'd meant he threw his arms around his friend, burying his face in the crook of his neck. After a long moment, he felt Cas' arms wrapping around him and Cas' chin settling on his shoulder. “Thank you, Cas.” he murmured into the familiar trench coat. Cas said nothing in return, but held him tighter.

They stood holding each other beneath Dean's sky for a long time. When they finally separated, both pretended not to notice the dampness of Dean's eyes. Cas smiled at Dean.

“So… this is a good gift? It is my first time presenting a birthday gift to someone.”

Dean laughed and clapped Cas' shoulder.

“Yeah, Cas, it's great. It's more than great.” Dean shifted uncomfortably- Cas had been keeping him warm, but had not been able to keep the snow from soaking in to his weather- inappropriate shoes.

“Your feet are wet. Do you wish to leave? I believe it is traditional to get a cake.” Cas suggested. Deam smiled and stood close enough to Cas that their shoulders were pressed together.

“I like pie better, actually. But nah, let's stay here a little longer.”

And they did.

 

 


	4. In Which Cas is a Disney Princess, and Dean is not Prince Charming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a post-finals gift for the lovely superwholocked-in-albion. This idea came from the fact that the power of love is a thing in lore across cultures, and I like the idea of Cas needing some lovin' to get his mojo back in order. That said, this is easily the cheesiest, fluffiest thing I have ever written. I hope you enjoy!!  
> This takes place sometime after 11x04.

In Which Cas is a Disney Princess, and Dean is Not Prince Charming

    Castiel should have expected the incredulous laugh. It was precisely the reason he had been keeping to himself and not telling Dean 'No Chick Flick Moments' Winchester why he healed slower on his own than he did with Sam and Dean around. That frankly unattractive snort that said human being had just emitted was exactly why he did not actively encourage the affectionate behavior that would soothe and bolster his grace, allowing him to heal, and instead resigned himself to making his way through Netflix's entire streaming catalog while his wilting, lonesome grace slowly knitted itself back together.

    “It's not funny, Dean.” He groused, folding his arms across his chest.

    “Y-y-yes it iiiiiis.” Dean gasped out, fighting to get his (irritating, obnoxious, and definitely not endearing) laughter under control. “Y-you're like freaking Snow White or something. A goddamn Disney princess. And here I was thinking all you angels were so freaking bad ass...”

    “Where do you think those stories come from…?” Cas started, then in a very human gesture he threw up his hands in defeat. “Never mind, there is clearly no talking to you. Forget I said anything.” And he turns around and strides to his room, ignoring Dean's half hearted protest. He tells himself that he is not hurt.

 

    “I dunno Dean, I mean, it kind of makes sense.” Sam said after Dean explained the situation to him. “When you think about it, there's plenty of lore to support it- cultures all over the world have stories where serious afflictions are fixed with true love's kiss. Hell, even today parents tell their kids that a kiss will make a scrape feel better.” Dean screwed his face up in response.

    “C'mon, man those are just fairy tales and bullshit stories to get kids to stop crying when they fall off their bikes.” He said dismissively, but Sam noticed his brother's gaze was directed down the hallway where Castiel's bedroom is. Dean's mouth ticked down in the way it always does when he's feeling guilty about something. “I mean, how does that even work? Do we just braid his hair and give him flowers and he magically gets better? It sounds pretty far-fetched to me.”

    “You're being close-minded- hell, there's plenty of actual science that backs it up. People in healthy relationships live longer and better. Kisses release endorphins that reduce pain. The unconditional love of a pet is proven to be beneficial to the sick. If you really think about it, it's not that far of a stretch.” Sam pointed out. “Anyway, even if none of that were true, why would Cas lie about something like this? Especially since he probably knew you'd be a jerk about it.” Dean scoffed defensively in response to this, but Sam could tell by the set of his shoulders that his brother knew he was right. “Look, Dean… this might be a novel idea but… maybe you should go talk to him about it? It's not right that he's laying around in pain when we could be doing something about it.”

    “Why don't you go do it, then? You're the one who's all over that girly stuff, _Samantha._ ”

    “As much as I care about Cas, I think it would be more… _effective…_ coming from you.” Sam said tactfully. Dean scowled, his cheeks reddening slightly.

    “I don't know what you're talking about.”

    “Sure you do, Dean- you're all 'profoundly bonded' and crap.” Sam said cheekily, earning an even deeper scowl. Then he softened his tone. “Seriously, though. Cas may be my friend, but it's you he really responds to.” He paused and watched his brother's eyes soften even as he crossed his arms defensively. “You've gotta stop running from this, man. Especially now.”

    “I ain't running.” Dean said shortly, standing up from his seat across the table. Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair.

    “That's good to hear.” He tilted his head towards the hallway. “Go talk to him, Dean.”

    Dean didn't say anything in response. But he went.

 

    “Hey.”

    Castiel did not turn to look at the door. He was cocooned in the old grey blanket that Dean had given him while he was fighting Rowena's attack dog spell, glazed eyes staring at the television where an animated, purple dog was being emotionally abused by his male owner. Somewhere inside him, his flagging grace perked up at Dean's presence.

    “Look, Cas, buddy…” Dean began, edging into the room.

    “Do not trouble yourself, Dean.” Castiel cut him off, still smarting from their earlier exchange. “I do not need you to… 'be Prince Charming.' I will heal on my own.”

    “It is so freaking weird that you get references like that now.” Dean muttered, perching on the edge of the bed. “Look, man, I didn't mean to laugh at you, alright?”

    At this, Cas did turn his head, regarding Dean with incredulity. He deliberately did not count the freckles on his nose, or lean in to the warmth of him.

    “Ok, well maybe I did… but you have to admit, it's pretty weird.”

    “Perhaps it is strange to you. But to me...” Cas looked down at his hands, turning them over in his lap. “I am not a physical being, Dean. Though I inhabit this vessel alone now, this body is not _me._ My grace cannot be healed with only physical comfort.” Cas turned his gaze heavenward, his expression wistful. “Were I not unwelcome there for my part in Metatron's escape, I could return to Heaven and be bolstered by the glory and the love of the Host. Angels were not meant to be alone, Dean. In spite of it all, we are creatures of love. It was God's love that brought us into being, and it is love that sustains us.”

    “Wait, so you're literally made of love, is that what you're telling me?” Dean had shifted a little closer, but his face was screwed up in almost comedic disbelief. “You're saying freaking _Metatron_ is made of love?” Cas frowned.

    “It is somewhat more complicated than that, but, for the purposes of this conversation, yes. The love that creates us is pure. Like anything, however, it can become corrupted. Twisted. It is a fate that has befallen many angels.”

    “Not you, though.” Dean said firmly.

    “Especially me.” Cas corrected gently. “I've… gone off the reservation, Dean. To you, I may not seem so, but I am not the same angel I was when we met. I know,” Cas was swift to cut off Dean's protest before it began, “that you feel this change is a good thing; I do too. The fact remains, however, that my grace has been fundamentally altered for it.” Cas dared to meet Dean's eyes for a moment before returning his gaze to his hands. “I am not meant to feel the way I do. An angel's love is meant to be pure, but cold. Distant. All-encompassing, rather than directed towards singular beings. But it has been years since I have loved that way, and years since receiving that sort of love has been truly satisfying to me.”

    “So, how, um...” Dean cleared his throat, eyes on the angel's bent head. He felt a sudden urge to run his fingers through the messy dark hair, to muss it up until Cas was forced to look up at him. It wasn't right for Cas to be avoiding his gaze- that only happened when Cas felt he had done something wrong. And however Cas was feeling, however he was- Dean nearly rolled his eyes at the thought- _loving_ , surely it wasn't wrong. “How _do_ you feel now?”

    Cas was silent before a long moment, seeming to need to brace himself before he spoke.

    “My grace- the love that comprises it- is no longer all-encompassing as it should be. It has _direction._ I- I do love all of God's creations, as I ever did. But now- now there is something I love more.” Cas took a deep breath, then finally, _finally_ raised his eyes to meet Dean's. “I love you enough that I would see all creation burn before allowing you to come to harm.”

    Dean's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Cas' words bounced around in his brain, echoing strangely. Cas held his gaze for a moment longer and then dropped his eyes again.

    “I'm sorry, Dean. I know this makes you uncomfortable, but at this point I feel full disclosure might be best. I do not expect you to return my feelings, I only thought that you should be aware of them, given everything else I've revealed.”

    Dean still couldn't speak. His brain was barely processing what had just been said. He'd known, of course, that Cas cared for him- the guy had given up everything for his sake, after all. He cared for Cas too- not something that he often admitted out loud, even to himself. Love, though… that was a concept he had long since stopped allowing himself the luxury of considering, except perhaps in his deepest dreams. And yet here Cas was, speaking it aloud so matter-of-factly, as though it were something tangible, something possible.

    “Dean?” Cas prodded after a few moments of silence. Dean shook himself back into reality.

    “Is that why, um...” He cleared his throat. “Sam said that… that I would be able to help you more than him. Is that true?”

    “I believe so, yes… though in truth, that depends on you.” Cas shifted and winced, rubbing at his chest where his aching grace was fluttering. “If you are not sincere in your gestures, they will not be effective in healing me.” There was a pregnant pause where Dean seemed to be steeling himself for something, then Cas spoke again, sounding vaguely amused. “You don't have to kiss me, Dean.”

    “I-”

    “My grace is bolstered only by your presence. When you put your hand on my shoulder, when you laugh at my jokes… when you gave me this blanket.” Cas pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “I already told you. You do not need to be 'Prince Charming.'”

    Dean paused a moment, and then the corner of his mouth ticked upwards and he finally gave in to the urge to ruffle Cas' already unruly hair. Cas sighed and leaned into the touch, closing his eyes in pure bliss when Dean's hand dropped from his hair and wrapped around his shoulder. His grace rejoiced inside of him at the proximity of a soul so beloved, and he felt it rally to better heal the damage done to it by the curse.

    “Hey, Cas?” Dean asked, dropping his head to rest his cheek atop of Cas' hair.

    “Hm?” Cas was a warm, heavy weight at Dean's side now, the gentle dance between Dean's soul and his grace beginning to send him into a true healing sleep.

    “You're still a goddamn Disney princess for making me do this.”

    “I'm not making you do anything.” Cas pointed out drowsily. “I am not a princess.”

    “Oh yes you are. Sleeping Beauty.” Dean laughed, jostling him playfully.

    “Then I suppose you will have to kiss me, if you wish me awake.” Cas murmured without thinking. Dean stiffened next to him and Cas froze in place for a moment, terrified that Dean would pull away.

    “I didn't mean--” Cas began, but then he felt soft lips press against his forehead. He froze again. The lips moved to his temple. His grace rejoiced within him, dancing and healing. He felt calloused fingers brush against his neck and touch the underside of his chin, tilting his head up. Dean's mossy green eyes searched his for a moment. Cas' grace thrummed in anticipation, pushing against the surface of his vessel to be as close to Dean as possible- he didn't know it was possible to _long_ for something so much, for it to consume him and set his very being aflame.

    “Dean.” He whispered. He was not sure how he intended to continue that sentence, but suddenly he didn't have to, because Dean's lips were on his and his grace was blazing within him. He gasped at the feeling of it, and Dean took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Cas was vaguely aware of his hand reaching out to grip Dean's shoulder, and then it was Dean's turn to gasp as his soul rose up and in congruence with Cas' grace, straining against the physical boundaries between them. Dean pulled away then, eyes wide and lips swollen.

    “What the hell was that?” Dean asked. “I mean, not that that wasn't great, but what was that bit with my shoulder? Felt like… hell, I don't even know what.”

    “Was it unpleasant for you?” Cas asked, suddenly concerned. Humans were such physical creatures- he had no way of knowing if the sort of metaphysical reaction that had occurred between him and Dean might have been too overwhelming.

    “No, not unpleasant, just… weird. I dunno, I just felt… like I was gonna bust out of my body or something.” Cas smiled.

    “What that was, Dean, was a taste of what receiving your love feels to me. Human souls and angel graces are not so different, excepting that souls are smaller and more grounded in the physical. The same way love sustains an angel, so too does it sustain a soul. Of course, humans often dismiss this as sentiment, as it is not a physical sensation- a human will not expire without love, without renewal on the spiritual level. They can remain physically fit, and even content to some degree, and not know what they are missing.” Cas smiled and gently pressed his hand to Dean's shoulder again, noting Dean shiver at the touch. “When I placed this mark on you, I was repairing you- body and soul. In those moments, your soul discovered what it was like to receive love as an angel would- it came into direct contact with my grace. Your mind may not retain the memories- my true form remains too overwhelming for human comprehension- but your soul _does._ ”

    Dean lifted his hand to cover Cas', pressing it to his shoulder, and was quiet for a moment. Then his lips quirked up in a strange smile.

    “'Receiving love,' huh? Even then?” Cas smiled back.

    “Differently than I do now. But yes, even then.”

    Dean stroked his thumb along Cas' hand, slowly getting used to the sensation that was apparently his soul trying to hook up with Cas' grace (and how weirdly awesome was that?).

    “Dean.”

    “Hm?”

    “I am not finished healing. I require more love from you.” Cas said. His face was straight but Dean saw a hint of mischief in his eyes. Dean barked out a laugh, rolling his eyes.

    “You 'require more love.' Jesus, you're a worse princess than Sammy.” He complained playfully. “But I guess it is my duty, isn't it?” And without waiting for an answer, he leaned in to kiss Cas again.

 

    Sam stretched as he rose from his chair in the library, groaning with satisfaction. He hadn't seen Dean or Castiel in hours, and could only hope it was a good thing. He poured himself a glass of water and headed down the hall to go to bed. He passed Dean's room on the way. The door was open, and the bed hadn't been touched. Across the hall, Castiel's door was closed, but if he listened closely he could hear the murmur of their voices. He smiled- definitely a good thing. Then a moan erupted from inside the room, and Sam hightailed it to his bedroom further down the hall.

    A good thing, he thought- but only if these walls were soundproof.

 

END

 

 

 

 

 

 


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